COLE LOSES A SOVEREIGN 259 



he sat opposite me at the luncheon-table, next Mr Cole. 

 It was customary to make speeches in those days on 

 such occasions, and I did so with my right arm screwed 

 up, almost immovable. 



I suppose I must have looked a bit of a wreck, for I 

 presently saw Cole shedding tears, together with another 

 friend who was facing me. 



Dr Riley asked them the cause of their trouble, and 

 found that their idea was that this must needs be my 

 last public appearance. It is pleasant, even now, to 

 think that good men regretted me by anticipation, 

 though there is such a thing as "the crying drop" 

 even in good champagne. 



The upshot of it was that Dr Riley bet Cole a 

 sovereign that I should be there again next year, and 

 of course I was ; but the marvel of that sale was that 

 in looking after all the details during the afternoon I 

 forgot my own trouble, and on going back home slept 

 for sixteen hours, to awake with the neuritis entirely 

 gone ; nor have I had the slightest touch of it from that 

 day to this. Had anyone pretended to cure me that 

 afternoon with this or that, should I not have given him 

 a splendid testimonial ? As it was, there was a clear 

 proof of neuritis curing itself if you can only forget it. 

 Poor Cole, who bet against my life, has long predeceased 

 me. 



Two very notable journalists were John Corlett and 

 Charles Greenwood. Neither had any pretensions to 

 literary style, but they wrote about what they under- 

 stood and were always eagerly read. John Corlett was 

 far more cosmopolitan in the scope of his abilities, and 

 he had a splendid memory for old-time events and 

 characters. For some period he wrote " Vigilant " for 





